


Stanuary 2020 Week 1: Burn

by redwoodroots



Series: Stanuary 2020 [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Stanuary 2020, burn - Freeform, ford comforts stan, leave ford alone, metal slide, stan protects ford, stanuary 2020 week 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22461445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redwoodroots/pseuds/redwoodroots
Summary: Small Stan and Ford vs Hot Metal Slide and Superstitious Bullies.  Who will win?Angst.  Angst will win.(and also comfort)
Series: Stanuary 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616200
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	Stanuary 2020 Week 1: Burn

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Bullying and 2nd degree burns

Stan and Ford were sitting under a tree in a park, trying not to sweat. The park was right across the street from Aunt Sheila’s house. Ma had taken them there for “family bonding time,” but let them run out after Stan got bored and started shooting rubber bands at her doll collection. It was so hot that Ford had left his aviator jacket inside, and the two of them wore shorts instead of their usual pants. Ford sorely wished he could jump straight into the ocean and not come out till sunset. 

Unfortunately, the park was too far from the beach to walk there, although it was close enough that it still got decent tourist traffic. The ice cream truck had essentially parked at the curb for the day. Normally Stan would’ve been over there conning tourists out of their frozen confections, but today it was almost too hot to move. The only reason they had the tree shade to themselves was that Ford intentionally left his hands out of his pockets – most of the kids who came close ran away screaming. It was nice to use his freak powers to his advantage for a change. 

In the meantime, Stan had taken to describing the park and all its features as if they were his mortal enemies. 

“There it is, Sixer,” Stan whispered. “The greatest weapon of destruction this park has ever known.” 

Ford rolled his eyes. “It’s a metal slide, Stanley.” 

“It’s a metal slide in winter. In the summer it’s a torture device invented by someone with a deep and fathomless hatred of children.” 

“Stan.”

“And that see saw,” Stan said dramatically, pointing to the plastic alligator. “Is a kid catapult waiting to happen. Seriously. I want to know who designed playground equipment to be a torture device.” 

“Stanleeeeey, it’s too hot to hate inanimate objects,” Ford groaned. “What did the park ever do to you.” 

“You haven’t seen the things I’ve seen, brother dear.” 

Ford huffed and closed his eyes. It was too hot to exist. At what temperature did humans spontaneously combust? 

“Bet we could fry an egg on that slide,” Stan mumbled. “What do you think? Gotta be hot enough.” 

“Maybe.” 

“Bet we could.” 

“Mmm.”

“C’mon, it’s a science experiment that involves vandalizing public property. Plus we’ll get a snack out of it.” 

“You want to eat cooked food? In this weather?” 

The grass beside him rustled. Ford cracked an eye open to see Stanley stumble to his feet, then stagger dramatically across the grass towards the street toward their aunt’s house. Ford thought about calling after him, but the heat utterly sapped his energy. He closed his eyes and pretended not to exist. He heard someone step closer, then give a choked gasp and hurry away. He clenched his fists and pretended even harder. 

A few minutes later he heard more footsteps and this time felt a tap on one foot. He looked up to see Stanley bending over him, grinning, an egg in each hand. 

“I got the goods,” he said in a corny Chicago accent. 

“Great. Now keep standing there, you’re giving me extra shade.” 

“Nu-uh, Mr. Scientist. You’re gonna come do science things with me. I’ll let you use fancy words like ‘experiment’ and ‘hypotenuse’ and everything.” 

“I think you mean ‘hypothesis,’” Ford grumbled, but he let Stan pull him to his feet and the two of them wandered to the slide. Ford couldn’t even look directly at the metal; it gleamed too brightly in the sun, and he could actually feel the heat radiate off of it like a physical force. “Geez, maybe this thing really is hot enough. That would have to be, what, at least 144 degrees Fahrenheit, so 62.6 degrees Celsius?” 

“Heck if I know. Ready?” 

“Yeah, why not?” 

Stan handed him an egg. The two of them tapped the shells against the slide, then cracked it. The eggs actually hissed quietly as they slid over the metal, and immediately the albumins, mucoproteins, and globulin began to coagulate. Ford said as much. 

“So, the egg white is turning white?” Stan asked. 

“That’s what I said. _You_ said I could use fancy words,” he pointed out. 

“I regret so much of my life.” 

“Whoa,” said a voice from behind them. “Check it out, there really are six fingers!” 

They whipped around. A kid slightly older and taller looked down at them, a toddler clutching her leg, staring wide-eyed at Ford’s hands. He hid them behind his back. 

“Whoa, you can count to six!” Stan said, equally wide-eyed. “That’s so impressive! You should get a medal!”

The girl scowled. “Shut up, loser, I wasn’t talking to you. Hey,” she addressed Ford. “are you cursed or something? Six is like, a devil number, you know.” 

“I’m not cursed.” 

“Are you sick or something?” 

Stan stepped up, toe to toe with her. “The only thing sick around here is you. Get lost.” 

“Let’s just go,” Ford mumbled, reaching for Stan’s shoulder. The toddler saw his hand and gave a shriek. 

“Don’t scare her!” the older kid said sharply, shoving Stan aside to scowl at Ford. 

Stan shoved her back. “She’s only scared ‘cuz you’re teaching her stupid superstitions!” 

“I told you to shut up!” 

“And I told you –”

“Stop, stop!” 

Ford moved forward, reaching to pull Stan away from the shoving match. The older kid whirled on him and shoved, hard. The metal slide was directly behind him. He fell backwards and braced himself. 

But instead of hot metal, he landed on Stan’s lap with Stan underneath him, screaming as the hot metal slide seared his legs. 

“Stanley!” 

Ford leaped to his feet and pulled his brother off. Stan stumbled forward, one hand held out behind him, not touching his thighs. Ford leaned over to look and sucked in his breath. Stan somehow hadn’t hit the cooked eggs, but the backs of his thighs were now two angry red burns already beginning to blister. 

“Ow,” Stan whimpered. 

“Get him ice!” Ford shouted at the kid, but she just squeaked and darted away, the toddler right behind her. None of the other kids were close and every adult was conveniently looking in the opposite direction. Ford gritted his teeth. “Fine, c’mon, we gotta get to Sheila’s house. She’ll have a freezer and we can cover your burns in egg whites, too.” 

“You gonna cook an egg on me now?” Stan asked weakly. 

“No, if you combine egg whites with silver sulfadiazine cream and apply it to second-degree burns –”

“Sixer, I’m too injured for science right now.” 

“Lean on me, just walk slow.” 

Stan obeyed, still bent over like an old man. The day was still boiling hot, but by the time they were halfway across the grass, Stan’s hand was cold and clammy in Ford’s. His breathing came in trembly gasps and Ford was sweating from stress as much as heat. He’d never seen his brother in so much pain before. Why did this always happen? It was just like last summer with the pitchforks, only this time his brother got hurt! 

“Mom!” Ford shouted as soon as they made the front door. “Mom! Aunt Sheila! MOM! STAN’S HURT!” 

Sheila’s house was old and reeked of cats. The front door opened into the living room, with a hallway on the left that led to the kitchen and staircase. There came an abrupt clatter of teacups and Ma appeared in the hallway, curls of hair plastered to her face in the heat. Aunt Sheila appeared behind her, a near-copy of their mom but with blond hair and thinner lips. 

“What happened this time?” Aunt Sheila sniffed. “Throw a rock at a cat?”

“Someone pushed him onto the slide and his legs are blistering, look!” He pulled Stan gently forward, turning him so they could see his legs. 

Ma paled. “Stan!” 

“Am I poached or scrambled?” he asked weakly. 

“Sheila, I’ll take some of your ice in a towel,” Ma ordered. “Stanford, I want ten egg yolks and a baster to spread them with. We’ll start with the ice, let me know when the eggs are ready.” 

“Hey,” Stan protested, when Ford immediately moved for the kitchen. 

“I’ll be right back.” 

“And you’ll be on the couch,” Ma said, taking Ford’s place in front of Stan. “Go on, couch time. You’ll lie on your stomach.” 

“I’ll be back with the ice,” Sheila promised, then disappeared into the kitchen. Ford followed her. “Stanford, eggs will be in the refrigerator, top shelf on the left. Baster is in the drawer under the sink.” 

“Thank you.”

They worked quickly, and his aunt hurried to the next room with the ice pack. It really worried Ford that he couldn’t hear his brother’s voice. Normally he’d be taking full advantage of the special treatment. And those blisters – he’d never seen a burn that bad. 

He had to crack extra eggs because his hands kept shaking and the shell would puncture the yoke, but eventually he finished the bowl with just a little curl of yellow in it and brought it to the living room with the baster. Stan was lying on his stomach on the couch, both hands tightly gripping the couch cushions, the ice pack resting on his thighs. 

“I have the egg whites,” Ford said, hurrying forward. 

Ma nodded. “Good. Alright, Stan, time to make like a Thanksgiving turkey.”

Stan grunted but stayed still. 

Ma motioned Ford over and took the bowl while Sheila removed the ice pack. They were almost worse than before, huge clear bubbles stretched over Stan’s skin. 

“It’s not so bad,” Sheila said, catching sight of his face. “Egg whites are an old trick and a good one. Since we’re treating him right away, he shouldn’t even scar.” 

Ma dipped the basting brush in the egg whites, then swept it gently over Stan’s left thigh. 

Immediately Stan screamed, left leg kicking out. Ford jumped forward and grabbed his ankle, holding Stan’s leg down as his scream turned into a moan. Ma quickly brushed him again, moving fast to slather the area before moving to the next leg. Ford stared at the back of his brother’s head, the way his shoulders bunched with pain. Ford was hot. Way too hot. He was flooded with heat. He saw Stan’s head pressed deep into the cushions to muffle his yells and he felt like his very blood was boiling and his gut roiled with lava. 

He didn’t even notice when he’d switched legs, but Ma rapped his knuckles sharply with the handle of the baster and he let go. 

“We’re done,” she was saying, or something like it, and then Ford was next to his brother, squeezing Stan’s hand in both of his.

“You don’t – have to apologize,” Stan gasped into the pillows.

Ford hadn’t even realized he was talking. “You shouldn’t have been hurt,” he said, and his voice sounded far away. “Don’t scream like that again.” 

“Like – I’m being burned? Gee, okay.” 

“It’s not funny. It’s not funny.” 

“Hey.” Stan turned his head so their eyes could meet. His face was white and drawn with pain. Ford realized with a shock that there were tears in his eyes. “Don’t – guh – don’t cry. Could – you squeeze harder? It helps – I don’t know why –”

Ford squeezed until Stan’s fingertips turned purple. 

“Better,” Stan said, blinking hard. “That – metal slide – really has it – out for me.” 

Ford choked out a laugh. “You’re practically mortal enemies.” 

A hint of a smile curved Stan’s mouth. “Yeah. Stan Man – versus – Slide Slayer. That’s – comic book origin, right there. Bet I could – make a comic –”

“Not today you won’t,” Ma said, coming back into the room. She had a pill in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “Here. Nothing like an allergy pill to knock you out cold.”

“Cold would be good,” Stan managed. 

Ford helped him tilt his head at an angle so he could drink the water, and Stan choked down the pill. Ma took the cup back with a sigh. 

“Nothing else to do but wait. Ah, well. Your Pa’ll be by around 5 to pick us up. Ford, you come get me and Sheila if he wakes up or needs a fresh batch of egg whites; we’ll reapply those every time the old layer dries.” 

“Yes, Ma,” Ford said. 

“You’ll stay?” Stan asked Ford, after she’d left. 

“I’ll stay,” Ford promised. 

“Those kids,” he said suddenly. “You’re not – cursed. Okay?”

“I know I’m not.” 

“Good.” Stan squeezed his eyes shut. A tear leaked out and ran across the bridge of his nose. 

“Please don’t cry!”

“Hurts.”

“You’ll go to sleep soon,” Ford said, somewhat desperately. “And! And! This totally gives you bragging rights. Right now you are absolutely hotter than anyone else in that whole park. You’re literally Hot Stuff!”

Stan sputtered, a grin tugging his lips. “Ha. I was already – hot stuff. This just – makes me – _Hotter_ Stuff.” 

His grip on Ford’s hands was already going slack. It took a few long minutes, but eventually Stan fell asleep. Ford didn’t let go of Stan’s hand, though. 

“I’m not cursed,” he said quietly. “I know I’m not, because I have a brother like you.”


End file.
